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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22637065">Counterpoint</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanadka/pseuds/kanadka'>kanadka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dancing, Historical References, M/M, Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:49:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>562</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22637065</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanadka/pseuds/kanadka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley always adds the worst details to Aziraphale's best works.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Chocolate Box - Round 5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Counterpoint</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuuago/gifts">yuuago</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Honestly, Crowley, you took a perfectly good dance and you've turned it into -"</p><p>"Sin," drawls Crowley. "That's what I do. Exactly my department."</p><p>"I was going to say <em>unnecessary lascivity</em>," says Aziraphale. "The couples are <em>seizing</em> each other."</p><p>"They were literally at arms length at court. It was boring. It was cruel!" Crowley gestures with his customary theatrical bombast. "Half this lot don't want that range, the other half think <em>this</em> is too far."</p><p>A man dances by with one arm in his partner's, another around the waist. One-two-three, one-two-three, Aziraphale counts the steps, watching their ankles. Then there's a pause - a hesitation, they're calling it - and the man inclines his head further towards... Aziraphale has to look away with a sharp tut.</p><p>"It was a <em>good dance</em>, the waltz," says Aziraphale. "What it was, I mean. <em>Before</em> you got to it. It had posture and deportment. You had to have skill."</p><p>"This requires skill," argues Crowley.</p><p>Aziraphale fixes him with a glare, though he's certain its effect is somewhat dulled by his powdered wig and the fact that he's not used to giving them. Filthy looks is more the demonic department. Crowley, naturally, has barely powdered his hair. Neither did Vivaldi - another one of Crowley's, no doubt. Some priest.</p><p>"I think you're just upset you spent so long learning it and now the information is -"</p><p>"Obsolete?" says Aziraphale.</p><p>"I was going to say in sore need of an update," says Crowley. "Anyway, it doesn't require <em>that</em> much skill. You could probably do it."</p><p>Aziraphale gives a breathy little laugh. "Oh, I could <em>not</em>," he says. </p><p>In a breath Crowley has spun from his side to facing him, arches an eyebrow, and extends a hand. He does like to slink around like that. No wonder he developed this sweeping, swishy choreography out of the much more proper version the Austrians had developed at court and put it in the servant's ballroom. "It isn't calculus," says Crowley.</p><p>"One of my best works," admits Aziraphale. </p><p>Crowley takes it further - both their hands are gloved, as is the style for gentlemen's fashion these days, which is just as well because Aziraphale has never been certain it's quite wise for an angel and a demon to be in too close contact, anyway - and takes his hand, with another around his waist. It's awfully warm. That must be the brimstone.</p><p>"Like this," murmurs Crowley, and whirls him into a stupidly easy step that can't possibly be on par with the minuet or the contredanse. Yet Aziraphale is flustered and barely managing not to stumble. One-two-three, one-two-three - Aziraphale counts out the beats to distract himself with some success: he neither stumbles nor does he give in - he refuses to admit aloud this has its advantages. An allure. A certain warmth to it. No, it really must be the brimstone. He fights to keep his space; the closer he is pressed to Crowley, the more Crowley will sense his gasps. He mustn't let on.</p><p>"There, see," says Crowley, as he finally releases Aziraphale at the end of the piece. Aziraphale can hardly remember whether it was a major key. "Wasn't so bad, now, was it?"</p><p>Aziraphale plucks his shirt back into place under its waistcoat, smooths down his jacket and adjusts the massive cuffs at his wrists, and wills the flush off his cheeks. "It was <em>dreadful</em>," he lies.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Played very fast and loose with the history (as usual). Mea culpa if you spot errors! This tidbit is very transparently about getting these two close.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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